Mere Moments
by Sobriety
Summary: Deacon Frost of Blade comes to Sunnydale. Comic book puritans take note: my knowledge of Blade vampire lore is limited to the Wesley Snipes' movie. Everything that happens in this fic is based on the details presented there.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimers**

**Legal: **All characters are (c) Joss Whedon, Fox, Mutant Enemy and probably a whole mess of other people. No infringement of copyright intended.

**Archive: **YGTS? and any mailing lists I send this to have permission, of course. Anyone else, go right ahead. Just let me know, please.

**Spoilers: **Set just after The Replacement (Buffy) and First Impressions (Angel)

**Summary: **Deacon Frost (of Blade) comes to Sunnydale. Comic book puritans take note: my knowledge of Blade vampire lore is limited to the Wesley Snipes' movie. Everything that happens herein is based on the details presented there, diverging from the movie's plotline when Frost tries to raise the Blood God.

**Rating: **R

**Challenge:** This is a response to YGTS? Challenges #120 and 136.

* * *

Deacon Frost raised his arms high and laughed in pleasure as he felt the force of the ritual grow. Within mere moments, the power of the Blood God would be his.

* * *

Blade stalked through the stone corridors of the ancient temple, feeling his strength surge through him, thanks to the blood of the woman he loved. Within mere moments, he would reach Frost, and there would be a reckoning.

* * *

A lot can happen in mere moments.

* * *

Something changed. A twist in reality; a ripple in time; a tear in existence.

To an observer, the event could easily have gone unnoticed; at most, there might have been a feeling that there was a brief flicker, the slightest disjunction.

But for an instant and an eternity, both were gone.

* * *

Blade stopped in mid-stride, his eyes narrowing in surprise.

The stone corridor he had been walking along had disappeared, and he found himself standing in an alley between two run-down warehouses. A dumpster, reeking of wet cardboard, was to his left, and he could hear the soft rumble of distant traffic.

"What the hell?" the burly vampire hunter frowned, shifting his grip on the sword he carried. For a second, he wondered if this were some trick of Frost's, but then he shook his head slightly. Frost was clever, but he had no way of knowing that Blade had escaped. "This is some weird shit. Nothing like anything Frost pulled before." He murmured to himself, moving slowly towards the end of the alleyway.

A woman screamed.

Instinctively, Blade ran toward the sound. By his usual standards, he was all but unarmed; just the sword clenched in his hand and a single silver stake in his boot. But in his hands, it would be enough to do the job.

He burst into the street as the woman screamed again, his boots pounding heavily on the sidewalk. His more-than-human strength propelled him at great speed, and within seconds, he reached the scene of the struggle.

Three vampires were terrorising a young couple; one had the boy down on the ground, and was tearing at his throat. The other two had the girl boxed in against a wall, but she was spiritedly swinging a length of wood to keep them at bay.

Blade leapt forward, killing the feeding vampire before it even realised he was there. His senses told him the boy was already dead, but he would risk getting blind-sided if he went after the other two first. He was already moving on by the time the vampire exploded into dust.

One of the remaining vampires turned and rushed him, but Blade dodged the blow and swept at the creature with his sword. As he did, he caught a glimpse of its face. It seemed to be deformed, and his surprise slowed the blow slightly. The creature ducked just in time, then clawed at his chest. He stepped back, swinging again, and this time the vampire was too slow. It shattered into ash as his blow cleanly removed its head.

Spinning to face the remaining vampire, Blade was surprised to find no sign of it, though the girl was still there, crouched over the body of her companion.

"What happened to the last one?" he growled, still looking around for it.

"Hello?" the girl glared up at him, "Woman with a stake here. What do you think happened?"

Blade looked at her in surprise,

"You carry a stake around with you?"

"And you carry a really big sword." The girl sighed and pulled a cell phone out of her handbag, "They're tools of the trade, right?" she pressed a quick dial button, paused for a moment, and then spoke into the phone. "It's me. Your distraction didn't work. They spotted us and got Reynolds. No, I'm okay: I had some help. Twenty minutes."

The girl turned the phone off.

"You've got good moves." She remarked, standing up and putting her bag over her shoulder, "But you're too old to be one of Gunn's usual crowd. What are you; his bigger, badder brother?"

"Name's Blade." He ignored the roll of eyes which greeted his name, "And I've never heard of this 'Gunn'. Where the hell are we, anyway?"

"You flunk American Studies or something?" the girl snorted, "This is LA, of course."

Blade reined in his temper,

"Look, I need some answers here. I was on my way to stop Frost when . . . something . . . happened and I ended up here. I need to get back there before he summons the Blood God."

"Okay." To his surprise, the girl's only response was to look thoughtful, "That all sounds like some kind of weird magic deal. We'll go see Angel. Who's Frost, anyway?"

"A bad-ass vampire." Blade grunted, surprised she hadn't heard of Deacon Frost, given that she obviously knew plenty about vampires. "I'm sorry I wasn't here in time to save your boyfriend."

"Boyfriend? Please. I have much higher standards than that." The girl gestured at the body, "He was a sleazebag, but he had some information for us on a new vampire cult. We were trying to sneak him out to somewhere safe, but it didn't work."

Blade grunted,

"I'm gonna have to cut off his head to make sure he doesn't rise." He noted, readying the sword, "You may want to look away."

"Let me say this just once: Yuck. Anyway, he won't rise. He didn't feed on the vampire."

Maybe the girl didn't know as much as she thought. He decided to humour her.

"I'm still going to do it. Just to be safe."

The girl sighed,

"Okay. But don't get blood everywhere. This dress costs a fortune to dry clean."

* * *

Fifteen minutes later they arrived at a gloomy looking hotel. Blade followed the girl into the foyer of the building, surprised at the size of what she had off-handedly referred to as 'the office'.

"Cordelia." A young black man looked up from a chair where he was reading a sports magazine, "I see your taste in men is improving."

The girl glowered.

"I stick to my own generation, thank you. He just helped me out against some vamps, and it sounds like he's caught up in some sort of mumbo jumbo, so I brought him here. Blade, this is Gunn. Gunn, this is Blade . . . and I can't believe I just had to say that."

"Charles Gunn." The younger man stood and offered Blade his hand, "Thanks for looking out for my girl, Cordelia."

"Just Blade." He shook the offered hand, both of them ignoring Cordelia's outraged squawk. His stomach rumbled as he spoke, the sensation reminding him of his other hunger. He had no idea if he could get the serum, here. If not, how long would it be before he needed to feed, again? "You in charge around here?"

Gunn shook his head,

"No -"

"I am." The voice was soft, and to his left. Blade turned, a cold shiver running down his spine as he looked at the black-clad man who had just entered. All his senses screamed at him.

Vampire.

Acting on instinct, he snatched the stake from his boot and hurled it straight into the creature's heart.

The vampire grunted, staggering, its hand flying to its chest. Without waiting for it to dust, Blade spun back to the other two, guessing now that he'd been lured into a trap, his own hand going to his sword.

Then cold fingers clamped around his wrist, and he found himself face to face with the vampire; who should be ash.

"Ow." The dark-haired vamp remarked quietly, as Blade stared at it in shock. "That hurt."

It pulled the stake out of its chest with a soft, slightly wet sound.

"Silver. Expensive. And useless except against Werewolves." It threw the stake aside. "You should research more carefully. Though I'm kind of glad you didn't."

"You should be dead." Blade yanked his hand free and stepped back, grasping his sword as he did so. "Silver's never failed before."

"Not on vampires." The newcomer insisted. Blade would have argued, but he was looking at living proof. Or undead proof, anyway. "Stakes. Sunlight. Fire. Crosses -"

"Crosses don't do jack -"

"I think I ought to know."

That much was true. Blade scowled. Something very strange was going on.

Cordelia screamed.

As Blade stared in shock, the girl reeled back, as if suddenly in intense pain.

"What the -"

"It's a vision!" the vampire snapped, as Gunn grabbed Cordelia to prevent her from falling. Catching Blade's confused look, he frowned, "Cordelia has visions whenever there's a serious threat coming our way."

Cordelia sagged in Gunn's arms. Blade saw tenderness in the way the young man held the girl. He wondered if she saw it, too.

"I saw Sunnydale." She gasped at last, "A vampire fighting Buffy. But not a normal vampire. He was from . . . another world. She couldn't kill him."

"Another world?" Blade frowned. These people seemed to talk about impossible things like they happened all the time, "This vampire . . . what did he look like?"

"He was kinda like that actor, Stephen Dorff." Cordelia accepted a glass of water and some pills from Gunn, who had quietly fetched them as the others talked.

"Never heard of him." Blade grunted, "But if he was a smug-lookin' yuppie-slacker cross, that's Deacon Frost. How do I get to this Sunnydale place?"

"I'll take you." the vampire grunted, then scowled at the arch look Cordelia sent him, "If Buffy's in danger -"

"Then Blade is the best person to help her." Cordelia snapped, "This Frost guy wasn't one of our vampires, Angel. He was something from Blade's world. It's up to him to help her. Besides," she added sternly, "We have a vampire cult to deal with, remember?"

The vampire sighed in defeat,

"Fine. Book him some tickets to Sunnydale. I'll call Giles and let him know what's coming."

* * *

Deacon Frost stumbled and fell, surprised to find himself suddenly standing in the middle of a wide lawn. On either side of him there were large buildings, unfamiliar in the darkness.

"Not exactly what I expected." He admitted softly, as he stood to survey his surrounds. It looked like a college of some sort, though he had no idea where. There was something about the place that appealed to him, though. A soft susurration of darkness under the pleasant veneer. It tugged at him, calling in a silent voice. Frost smiled.

"I think I'm going to like it, here."


	2. Chapter 2

Buffy was pinned against a mausoleum wall.

Not that this was a bad thing, she admitted to herself, feeling Riley's weight press her into the stonework. His lips were hot on hers as she raked at his shoulders, her legs curling around his to pull him in closer. There were definite advantages to patrolling with her boyfriend.

"You know kids, there are smarter places to make out than the cemetary."

They sprang apart, surprised by the unfamiliar voice. Buffy glared at the newcomer; a slightly built young man who was well-dressed but a little scruffy. He smirked,

"I don't normally go in for graveyards, myself. More a luxury penthouse kind of guy. It's just that I'm new in town, so I was looking for somewhere quiet to hole up. But maybe I'll stop for a meal."

The Slayer frowned, inching her hand toward a stake she kept tucked inside her jacket. The guy didn't feel like any vampire she had met before, but he certainly talked like one.

"Nice lookin' girl, my friend." He continued, nodding to Riley, "Mind if I have a taste?"

"Not on my watch." The ex-commando snapped, suddenly thrusting out a cross.

"What the - ?" the possible vampire looked amused, "What sort of freak carries a cross around with him?" he suddenly leapt forward, smashing his forearm into Riley's face and knocking the ex-commando to the ground. "The sort with a glass jaw, it seems." He picked up the fallen cross and threw it away. "For the record, crosses don't work."

"What are you?" Buffy demanded, her hand still on the hidden stake. She needed to distract him from Riley, find out what she was facing.

"I'm Deacon Frost." He gave her a slight bow, then kicked Riley sharply as the ex-commando began to stir. "And your friend here seemed to know what I am, even if he has been watching too many Hammer horror films."

"You're not a vampire."

"Really?" he grinned, showing elongated fangs, "will you still be telling me that when I'm drinking your blood?"

Buffy suppressed a curse. This guy was something new; like a vampire but not one. No ridges on his face, no reaction to crosses. With Riley barely conscious, this was not the time to test whether he was also immune to stakes. She released the weapon and did her best to look nervous as Frost moved toward her.

"D-don't come any closer." She quavered, congratulating herself on the performance she was giving. Frost kept coming, a smile on his face.

"Who's going to stop me?"

She hit him as hard as she could.

Frost flew backward, landing heavily on the ground. Not waiting for him to recover, Buffy hauled the still-dazed Riley to his feet.

"Come on, we've got to get out of here!" she yelled, happy to get a slightly glazed nod in reply.

They ran, the Slayer half-dragging her boyfriend, her mind in turmoil over this new danger; a vampire who was not a vampire. She would have to see Giles in the morning.

* * *

Frost sat up slowly, and gingerly touched his bruised face.

"Slayer packs quite a punch, don't she, mate?" A figure stepped out from behind a mausoleum, lighting a cigarette as it did so.

"Slayer?" Frost asked, then winced at the pain in his jaw.

The newcomer stared at him in surprise, then gestured after the running girl.

"The _Slayer_, mate. Bane of the unholy hordes? The Chosen One, who -" he paused to adopt an outrageously pompous accent, "stands alone against the vampires and the forces of darkness." Seeing Frost's uncomprehending look, he shook his head. "Jesus, you never heard of the Slayer?"

"I'm from . . . out of town." Frost hauled himself to his feet.

"Must be from the bloody moon if you've never heard of the Slayer." The other man grunted, "You got lucky, mate. She was more worried about protecting her precious Captain Cardboard than in findin' a way to kill you. That won't last. Come tomorrow, she'll be badgerin' that precious Watcher of hers to find out what you are and how to kill you."

Frost frowned. He had no idea what this . . . creature . . . was talking about, but he could tell that it wasn't human, and that it knew a lot more about this place than he did.

"I'm very new in town." He glanced in the direction the girl had run, "And I could use a guide to local conditions. You interested?"

"Depends on what's in it for me, mate." The other blew a long stream of smoke, "Information like that doesn't come cheap."

Frost shrugged and drew out his billfold.

"There's five hundred in here. In exchange, you tell me everything you know about this town and the Slayer. Deal?"

"Deal." His new-found informant stuck out a hand, "Call me Spike."

* * *

Buffy hurried across the campus grounds, suppressing the desire to yawn as she did so. She was going to be late for Psych, but she had bigger things on her mind. She had meant to call Giles and ask him about the . . . whatever it was . . . she had encountered the night before, but she had overslept, so it would have to wait until after class.

"Slayer."

She stopped in mid-stride, and turned to face the person who had addressed her.

Deacon Frost sat calmly on a bench next to the path, a slight smile on his face.

"Nice day, isn't it?" he asked, as casually as if they were old friends.

"I don't know if you've heard," Buffy replied coldly, "but sunlight kills vampires."

"I bought some very good sunblock."

Buffy snorted,

"You gotta be kidding me."

"Afraid not, gorgeous." Frost leaned back on the bench, "You see, I _am _a vampire, but nothing like any you've ever seen before." He stood suddenly, and Buffy took an involuntary step backward. Frost smirked, "I've got an interest in your little Hellmouth. It sounds intriguing. I suggest you stay out of my way."

Still smirking, he turned and walked away, leaving a confused and slightly frightened Slayer behind him.

Slowly, Buffy's mouth firmed into a hard line, and she took off at a run for The Magic Box. Willow could sign her into Psych.

* * *

"I'm sorry, Buffy, but I fail to see why this . . . person . . . has you so concerned." Giles polished his glasses slowly. "Everything you've said about him so far could simply mean he's a human with some decent combat training and a set of prosthetic teeth."

"This wasn't just some guy with a vampire fetish, Giles." Buffy shook her head, "I could feel something strange about him, I just couldn't recognise it."

"Then at worst he is simply some new kind of demon, or perhaps a warlock of some kind." Giles persevered in his attempt to allay her fears. "Both of which you've defeated before."

"I don't know, Giles." Buffy felt, and looked, unconvinced. "There was something about him. Almost like a smell." She paused, "Speaking of which, did you sleep in those clothes?"

Giles grimaced slightly,

"Preparing the shop has proven more of an undertaking than I had expected. By the time I was finished here last night it was so late that I simply slept in the office."

"Geez, Giles, overdoing it much?" Buffy scolded teasingly, "All night research sessions are one thing; the fate of the world is at stake. This is just a store."

"Yes, well . . ." the Englishman was spared the need for further defensive stammering by the soft jingle of the bell on the shop's door. "I'm sorry, we're closed for renovations -" Giles broke off suddenly, and Buffy turned to see what had surprised him so much.

For a moment she thought of Forrest, but the man standing inside the doorway was taller and broader than the dead commando had been, and dressed in black leather rather than army greens.

Buffy raised her eyebrows,

"Who are you supposed to be, John Shaft?"

"You heard of Shaft?" he sounded surprised.

"I never miss a Samuel L. Jackson movie."

He shook his head,

"Richard Roundtree was the _man_."

Buffy frowned. There was something about this guy . . . something that reminded her of Deacon Frost. She stepped smoothly in front of Giles, glancing around for a weapon of some sort.

"You Giles?" the big man directed his question at the ex-Watcher as he dropped his bag on the floor beside him.

"I'm Rupert Giles, yes." The Englishman had noticed his Slayer's sudden tension and was slowly backing toward the shop's counter, where he had already taken the precaution of hiding a battle-axe.

"Name's Blade. Angel said you'd be expecting me."

Buffy and Giles exchanged a surprised look.

"Angel?" the Slayer asked, finally, with some difficulty.

"Sure. He was going to call." The black man frowned, "I guess he didn't."

"He may have, actually." Giles conceded, still inching toward the axe, "I didn't go home last night."

The door of the shop burst open and Anya swept in, followed by Xander, his arms piled high with stock.

"Hey Giles! I'm late, I know, but Xander and I -" she broke off, giving Blade a surprised look, "Okay. What's with the alternate reality guy?"

* * *

Blade leaned back into his chair and mentally shook his head. The ease with which these people accepted the seemingly impossible amazed him. If he'd been told by a complete stranger that they were from another reality, he would have assumed they were an escapee from a mental institution. Not these folk. They discussed it like it was an everyday occurrence.

"So this Frost is the 'Big Bad' back where you come from?" the blonde; Buffy, whatever sort of name that was; asked from where she was perched on the shop's counter.

"Yeah." Blade grunted, trying not to react to the childish nickname she'd given Frost.

"So I just need you to fill me in on how to kill him and our problem will be solved." The blonde smiled like she'd worked out a complicated riddle.

"We can't just do that, Buffy." The old guy at least seemed to have some sense, "that would still leave Mister, uh, Blade, stuck here. And who knows what effect it would have on his reality."

"Giles is right." The other girl nodded from where she was playing with the cash register, "Messing with reality is a tricky business." She caught the looks she was getting and shrugged, "Hey. I was a vengeance demon for a thousand years, I know stuff like this."

Blade decided it was better not to ask what she was talking about. Instead, he checked his watch. He would need to feed again in an hour or two. Although he was deprived of his serum in this reality, Angel had given him a supply of blood-bags. It was an elegant solution, he had to admit. He wondered why it had never occurred to Whistler or him.

"To send him back," the girl continued, "we need to know what brought him here."

"How are you going to learn that?" Blade spread his hands, "one minute I was at the Blood God's temple, looking for Frost; the next, I was in your version of LA. It was like magic."

"Magic?" the boy who'd come in with the girl leapt to his feet and hurried to the phone, dialing a number from memory. He was silent for a few moments, then spoke. "Willow? It's me. Have you and Tara been playing with the space-time continuum again?"


	3. Chapter 3

"So what's your deal?" Buffy asked Blade as they waited for yet more teenagers to arrive. "I mean, I _have _to fight vampires. It's my destiny. Why do you risk your neck?"

"They're blood-sucking monsters."

"Yeah . . ." the blonde seemed taken aback, "But there must be more to it than that?"

"No. There isn't." There was, of course, but there was also no way that he was discussing it with someone who looked like a refugee from cheerleading camp.

"Ohhhhhhh-kay." The girl muttered to herself, then stood. "I'm gonna get a soda. You want anything?"

"I already did." A bag of blood, lukewarm and foul, that he'd drained whilst alone in the bathroom. He'd had to brush his teeth three times to get rid of the taste. It seemed there were advantages to using the serum, after all.

Buffy might have said something; he'd noticed she usually did; but the jingle of the shop's bell interrupted her.

"Willow! Tara!"

"Hi, Buffy! Sorry we took so long to get here." Of the two girls who had entered, it was the redhead who replied. "But we were kinda in the middle of . . . well, a spell . . . when you called."

"Nothing dangerous, I hope." The British guy; Giles; looked disapproving. "We've had quite enough magical mishaps this week already, from the looks of it."

"It w-was j-j-j-j-just -" the other newcomer started to explain, but couldn't get the words out. This earned Giles a matching pair of glares from Buffy and the redhead. He flushed slightly, but stood his ground. More or less.

"It's alright, Tara." He held up a hand to placate the three girls. "I'm sure you were being careful. This situation with Mister Blade just has me on edge."

The two newcomers; at least Blade now knew which was which; turned wide-eyed stares on the burly vampire hunter.

"Hi." He offered gruffly. "Buffy . . ." he still couldn't get over the girl's name ". . . told me you guys are witches?"

"Yup." Willow nodded happily while Tara did her best to disappear behind her own hair, "You can come to us for all your wicca needs."

Blade, not trusting himself to answer, merely grunted.

* * *

"Your world makes no sense." Deacon Frost remarked, letting the drained body of a young woman slide to the ground.

"What?" Spike scowled, trying to ignore the rumble of hunger from his stomach. He didn't much like his house guest. The smug bastard hadn't even offered to share.

"Take this thing with mirrors." Frost walked over to the table he'd set up in the crypt and began to sift carefully through the pile of electronic bits and pieces that lay there. "You don't cast a reflection, but you show up in photographs or on film. How does that work? For that matter, how do you shave?"

"Carefully." Spike's grunted answer was surly.

"And as for this Slayer of yours . . ." the other man shook his head as he began to splice some wires together. "It's absurd."

"You want to know what's absurd?" the bleached vampire pointed at Frost, "tellin' the Slayer that you're going after the Hellmouth. She'll be out for your blood, now."

"You'd be right, if I had any intention of investigating the Hellmouth while she was still alive. Fortunately . . ." Frost picked up a small welding tool, "I'm not stupid. You know who this girl is, correct?"

"Yeah."

"And where she lives?"

"Yeah . . ." Spike frowned. "So?"

Frost finished welding and looked at the device he'd just completed with a satisfied smile.

"So while she's busy chasing after me at the Hellmouth, I'm going to plant this bomb in her bedroom." Frost smirked. "Some of us don't have to wait for an invitation, you see."

Spike felt a grudging admiration for the other man's plan. But that didn't mean he had to admit it.

"What if the Slayer tumbles to your little scheme?"

"Why would she? I've got you to tell me all about her. Who's going to tell _her _about me?"

* * *

"No. It doesn't track." Blade was insistent.

"Look, we've been over this before." The boy named Xander complained, "Big Bads come to town, and they try to open the Hellmouth. There's a roster system or something. Buffy's stopped 'em a dozen times before."

"Yeah," Buffy nodded, "It's pretty much the standard pattern. Come to town, try to suck the world into Hell."

"The Hellmouth is a source of great mystical power." Giles offered.

"Yeah, I get all that." Blade cut in before someone else could join their tag-team argument, "And going after the Hellmouth _is _something Frost would do. It sounds like your world's version of the Blood God." He saw Xander open his mouth and scowled. The boy shut up. "But _telling _you what he was doing . . . that's not Frost at all. He's smarter than that."

"So what _is _his plan?" the blonde raised her eyebrows challengingly.

"You." Blade grunted, "He'll try to kill you."

Xander laughed,

"Let him try. Now you've told the Buffster how she can dust him, this Frost guy won't have a chance against her."

"You're not listening." Blade sighed, "Frost. Is. Not. Stupid. He won't try to fight her directly. This whole deal with the Hellmouth is to distract you, to get you away from where he wants to be. Maybe the vampires in this world were all lobotomised, but Frost knows what a gun is -"

"It's been tried." Buffy interjected. "And not just by vampires."

"- and he also knows about electronics, explosives, all that kind of stuff." The vampire hunter ignored the interruption. "Are there any vampires here who know where you live?"

The others exchanged a thoughtful look.

". . . a couple." The blonde admitted at last.

Blade nodded.

"Then that's where he'll go after you. He'll use a bomb, or a knife in the dark. Something that'll find you when you aren't ready. Your pal Angel filled me in on the local vampires, and this 'no entry without invitation' thing won't stop Frost. You might be used to your homes bein' safe, but they aren't anymore."

"So Buffy waits at her place, Frost shows up, and kapow! She dusts him." The slayer ignored the looks she was getting for talking about herself in the third person.

Giles cleared his throat,

"Actually, no. I'm afraid not."

Xander and Buffy stared at the Englishman. Even Blade raised his eyebrows.

"I think I speak for all of us; again; when I say 'huh?" Buffy frowned.

"I've gone over the spell that Willow and -" Giles broke off, "the spell that went wrong. In order to reverse its effects, we will need both Mister Blade and this, uh, Frost chap . . . alive."

* * *

Frost watched with satisfaction as the blonde girl left her house and walked down to the car that was waiting for her. As soon as she was inside, the bright red sports car pulled away from the curb.

"Now that's a mid-life crisis car, if I ever saw one." He muttered to himself, glancing at his watch. Once sixty seconds had elapsed, and the car was well out of sight, he walked slowly across the road. He didn't bother to hide or skulk, instead moving casually and openly. To a casual observer, he would simply look like a young man out for a walk.

He went around to the side of the building. The trellis and open window were exactly where Spike had said they were. Frost didn't much care for his Sunnydale 'guide', but at least the bleached blonde's information was accurate and reliable.

Frost carefully settled a rucksack onto his back, then climbed the trellis with quick, confident movements. It took only a few seconds, and he was inside the girl's bedroom. He shook his head slowly, glancing back out at the neighbouring roof. The vampires in this world really were half-wits. With a little patience and a hunting rifle, any one of them could have killed the so-called 'Slayer'.

He had gently placed the rucksack on the bed and begun to unzip it, when the door of the bedroom creaked open. Frost cursed, looking up at what he expected to be the girl's mother.

"Blade?"

"Frost. Nice of you to drop by."

The vampire lunged for the window, but suddenly the girl was coming through it, grabbing him with unnatural strength and slamming him to the ground.

"You like it kinky, little girl?" he quirked an eyebrow as she lay on top of him, then used the momentary distraction of her outrage to throw her aside and scramble to his feet.

At which point the hilt of Blade's sword crashed into his temple, plunging him straight into darkness.

* * *

"Is he dead?"

"No."

"You hit him pretty hard."

"He's a vampire." Blade sighed, reminding himself that he would soon be out of this crazy world, with its amateurish teenage vampire hunters. "He'll survive."

"Sorry." The girl had the decency to look embarrassed. "I guess you know his capabilities better than I do."

Blade nodded.

"Let's go do this spell of yours, huh?"

* * *

Blade watched the preparations of the two teenage witches with a mix of amusement and anxiety. He had only their word that both he and Frost needed to go back, after all. Back to the same exact moment they had left their world. Hell, he'd been told he probably wouldn't even remember what had happened to him. And he would be giving up the perfect chance to destroy Frost. Here and now, the vampire was at his mercy.

"You're thinking about killing him." The soft tones of the Englishman; Giles; broke into his thoughts.

"Yeah. How'd you know?"

"It's what I would be thinking in your place." The answer was matter-of-fact. "Believe me, Mister Blade, if it were possible to do just that, none of us would hesitate. Regrettably, these things are complicated."

"Everything seems to be, in this world." Blade observed sourly. "In my world, Frost is on the verge of summoning the power of the Blood God. I'm putting a lot of faith in you people."

Giles nodded.

"I understand your concern, Mr Blade. But I have no doubt that you will prevail. Buffy told me of your quick action in capturing Frost. You are obviously a quick-thinking and resourceful individual. That should stand you in good stead."

Blade, a little uncomfortable with the other man's warm words, merely grunted.

"We ready to this . . . spell . . . of yours?"

"Indeed."

The vampire hunter stepped into a chalk circle, and stood silently as the two young witches began to chant. Frost, bound and gagged, glowered at him from a second circle.

Something changed. A twist in reality; a ripple in time; a tear in existence.

And both were gone.

* * *

Deacon Frost raised his arms high and laughed in pleasure as he felt the force of the ritual grow. Within mere moments, the power of the Blood God would be his.

* * *

Blade stalked through the stone corridors of the ancient temple, feeling his strength surge through him, thanks to the blood of the woman he loved. Within mere moments, he would reach Frost, and there would be a reckoning.


End file.
